Desperately Seeking Epic(14)

“Have you been to China?”

“A few times,” Paul replies before taking a bite of pizza. “Maybe we can go together.” He shrugs. Insert awkward silence. Neena leans back in her chair and smiles sadly. Marcus frowns and my eyes well up with tears. Neena may never go anywhere. Not if Paul isn’t a match, and even if he is . . . maybe not.

“Who wants cake?” I chirp, standing and rushing to the counter. I need a moment to collect myself, because I don’t want to cry in front of her.

Paul seems to pick up on his fubarred comment and clears his throat. “What kind of music do you like, Neena?”

For the next twenty minutes Neena excitedly discusses her favorite bands, ending with her favorite one, Masters of the V. I inwardly cringe every time she says the band’s pervy name out loud.

She grins from ear to ear before continuing. “I want to meet Zack, and all the guys of Masters of the V, soooo bad. They sell these awesome wristbands that mention their current number one hit, Lick the Cat!”

Paul frowns and blinks a few times—unsure if he heard her correctly. “Lick the . . . what?”

“Yes,” I intervene, giving Neena a stern look. “And I told her I wouldn’t let her wear such a thing unless this Zack guy, the lead singer, delivers it to our door himself.” Neena quirks her mouth to the side in mild annoyance.

“Well, I think I’ll be heading home,” Marcus announces as he stands and rubs his stomach a few times. “Excellent pizza, as always,” he teases, smirking at me. Tossing the dish towel in my hands at him, I stick my tongue out.

“Paul,” he says. “If you need a place to stay, let me know.”

“Will do, buddy.” They shake hands and as Marcus leaves, he kisses Neena on the cheek. “Night, kiddo.”

“Night, Uncle Marcus.”

When I hear the front door close indicating Marcus has left, I look to Neena. “Neena you should go get ready for bed, honey.”

“Moommm,” she whines.

“Neennnaaa,” I gripe back.

“I want to talk to Paul some more.”

“Maybe I could come hang out with you tomorrow if that’s okay with your mom?” Paul offers, cutting his eyes to me.

“I’d love that!” Neena practically squeaks. “Can he, Mom?”

As I gaze at both of them, their matching brown eyes watch me, waiting for my reply, I can’t help the feeling of dread that hits me in the gut. I don’t do babies and white picket fences. Neena said she could handle his rejection—if that’s what he gave her, but looking at her wonder-filled gaze, I’m not so sure. Paul has a way about him. It’s hard to explain. He draws you in and sometimes you don’t even realize it’s happened until it’s too late. That’s how it happened to me. But what if he’s sincere? What if he really does want to get to know her? How could I deny my daughter, who may leave this world so tragically soon, this opportunity to get to know her father? I’d be a monster if I did that.

“Sure, we can work something out,” I manage through a forced smile. Neena grins and looks at Paul, who is wearing a matching grin.

She stands and says, “Thanks for coming to dinner. It was really nice to meet you.” Then she reaches out her frail little hand to shake his. Paul glances at her hand, his expression somewhere between pain and happiness, before he takes and shakes it.

“Thanks for taking the time to meet me, Neena. I hope we get to know each other a lot better.”

“Me, too.” Turning to me, she walks toward me, almost skipping, and hugs me. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I squeeze her once. “I’ll come up to say good night in a bit.”

With a small wave to Paul, she exits the kitchen, leaving the two of us in yet another bout of awkward silence.

“You’ve done a great job with her,” Paul finally says. “She’s a wonderful girl.”

“Thank you. I got lucky.”

He stands and takes his beer bottle to the trash, dropping it in. “And you’re okay with me seeing her tomorrow?”

Spinning around, I place my hands on the counter and take a deep breath. “I’m trying to be,” I admit. “But honestly . . . I’m scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of you making her fall in love with you then jetting off.”

He sighs and moves to the counter beside me, leaning against it, facing the opposite direction. “I mean it. I want to know her, Clara.”

“Please be careful with her, Paul.” He nods once in agreement.

“So how do we find out if I’m a match?”

“I set up an appointment for you. Tomorrow at nine. Are you staying with Marcus? I can text him the address.”

“Wow. Okay, that was fast,” he sighs. “I’m not sure where I’m staying just yet.””

“Well we’re running out of time,” I state. “I’ve spoken to the office on the off chance you’d show up.” I grab a notepad and pencil out of a drawer and shove it into his hands. “Here. Write down your number. I’ll text you the details and meet you there.”

He jots down his number and watches me for a moment after, his eyes fixed on me. I wonder what he sees. Does he see the woman he once shared a bed with; the youthful and determined Clara? Or does he see the shadow of that woman he used to know? Can he see my fear and worry like a map across my face?